all my friends, children of Saturn



Inherent in the Capricorn agenda

that goddess Rhea to-do list,

is a little "something for something"

ethic you don't always learn

from the family biz venue.

Somewhere on my horoscope

filled to rollicking and rolling

is the house of all my friends*,   (see footnote)

children of Saturn, ringed fittings,

coldly set in goat breath vapors,

huffing down from faint stars.

Transients, most of them, 

escapees from Chronos' menu, 

bivouacked on the lawn of my life,

cackling, moose calling, laughing at

my crazy uncle as he goes about

in his robe and stocking-cap,

touching up his oil paintings 

with grape jam and toothpaste.

My friends like to sit with uncle,

at his yellow table, spread

with cracked and muddy

paint pots and bizarre cards.

He paints a greeting for every day

and gives it to a visitor,

just for stopping in. I f you don't

speak to him he just hums,

or lights up a Kool, raising

a song on the blue smoke.

Children of Saturn always move on, 

leaving their jewelry, their clothes, 

anything that would identify them

as beach combing clam bakers, here,

just for the Amistad shore leave and

the hung over ride to glory land.

* I have a double wide 10th house in Sagittarius 
shifting my 11th house of Friends to Capricorn,

it's complicated.


ŠJimmy Warner Design, 2016